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on the neutral side of the borders | silv's song

The north was interesting - Silvercreek could see himself returning. But it was well populated, and he knew to be cautious with who he went introducing himself to or becoming entangled with considering the packs' close proximities and sheer numbers.

He didn't need a Haven wolf spreading rumors and inciting a communal manhunt. It was bad enough that Silver had a price on his head from them at all, let alone any more trouble hot on his heels from the locals. No, the Silvercreek kept to himself for the time being, weighing his need to latch onto some kind of stability against his learned caution.

These were new lands, the trees thick at the base of the mountain he meandered down. The trickster was in good spirits, enjoying the fresh air and pleasant scenery, quickly losing the vibrancy of its evergreens in the gathering dusk. Silvercreek wasn't deterred by nightfall's creeping arrival, although he was given pause as he trotted lightly around a tree only for his nose to twitch and a faint wrinkle marred his features.

The pack borders formed a veritable wall across the path the man had previously been following. He wasn't going back up the mountain at this time of night...he'd just have to follow the edge of the borders around until he could be on his way, Silver decided. All the good pack wolves ought to be in their dens, fast asleep anyway. He gave a cheerful, cheeky flick of his tail before the man continued on his way.

Sue him, it was a bit of a thrill to believe he was slipping within a hair's breadth of a pack's lands and would be long gone come morning, when any wolf might notice the near transgression.

This time, as he walked, he pulled from his memories a brief tune to sing along the way. It was more than a little ominous, but made Silver feel right at home amongst the glittering snow and pitch shadows clinging to the pines. It was a ballad he'd picked up at the Haven - Silver thought it'd been a Troll to give it to him; something spooky to keep the shadows at bay.

Sreda

Skill:

https://open.spotify.com/track/2VgsFO5sO...4909a74898

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The fall of the sun would wake her, the soft call of midnight readying her mind. The air would grow cold and still, stale against her nostrils as the humidity of the afternoon crystalized with the dying rays of the sun's grasp. Soon, it would sink behind the mountainous giants, red dim light crying from behind the silhouettes of the mountains as the sun made a dramatic exit. As if being strangled by the rising moon.

She trailed along the edges of the packland, paws growing cold against the frozen blades of grass that cracked and broke beneath her minute weight.

The world cried for spring and longer days.

And yet Sreda would take advantage of the remainder of winter's midnight, searching in an eternal and endless slumber for more information about this magical world. About the darkness that lingered beneath the light.

And then she would hear the song ... she would catch the light scent of rosewater on the breeze, rallying with unfamiliarity in her nose. It was not uncommon for Elysium to welcome visitors, those from this plane and from the next. Somehow, the lands were a magical "catch-all" for wayward souls. But this one seemed different, riding the line of the borders with a seeming awareness. Luring and tempting nearby travelers with a siren song.

And it worked.

Sreda slipped through the shadows, the darkness mingling with the ebony in her coat to camouflage her in these familiar lands. Perhaps she would only be noticeable by the unnatural glint of her amethyst gaze as she neared the silver wisp. And as she drew closer, she would begin to hum a tune of her own, her wordless voice mingling with his own in an eerie, underlying harmony as she pressed toward him.

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The siren's song was meant to warn, not lure. But he had underestimated - presumed he was the most shadow-stained thing lurking out here in the gathering dark. That anything that crept near would sense the blood on his paws and the seductive sin in his melody and wander back to the safety of their kin.

He didn't notice her, at first. The bated breath of the world tilting into darkness was close enough to peace for him to relish in it, and his own song felt like a protective shroud around his shoulders. The frog on his shoulders heaved a grating croak just once, before Silvercreek suspected Frederick had outright gone to sleep, nestled in the plush fur he wore to combat winter's chill.

Frost-laden grass crinkled beneath his paw, and then the man's ear twitched as he caught a faint tune harmonizing with his own. His heart stilled at first with fear - caught already, and by who? Please, he nearly begged, just don't take me back, but he realized the scents around him had not changed, and this was not the ominous song of a Havener on his scent, with righteous and cruel justice making their blood sing hot.

This was another revenant. Silvercreek lifted his chin, catching the dimming light reflecting in a pair of bright purple wisps staring at him from beneath the shadows. One of the pack's wolves, straying too far from their cozy center to investigate the silver dagger carving his way along their territory's edges. Bold, or stupid - the same could be said of him. Silvercreek didn't quite bother with a smile, but a small one twisted at the edges of his mouth all the same, tail swaying lazily at his hips as he gave the girl more shadow than shape a considering tilt of his head. He had stopped his long, languid strides in favor of facing her properly, or where he was guessing she was. He couldn't sort out her silhouette exactly from the rest of the dark. It made her feel a bit more dangerous than he'd expected, and Silvercreek debated with himself whether it was wise to engage at all. But he'd always been too easily seduced by a little danger. It was what had gotten him into the mess he was running from.

He didn't quite want to break the reverie first, so he hummed the notes of his own melody for her once again, slow and deliberate.